Defining Desperation
by goldnox
Summary: One Shot: In the aftermath of 4x19 Pictures of You, Damon is setting in motion the plan to make Elena recover her humanity by keeping her imprisoned in the cellar of the boarding house. But what will it take to break her? And in the end, is it even worth it? / DARK / Delena.


**A/N: Hello dearies! Okay, so with all the fluff I've been writing I think my angst got backed up, and after last week's episode Pictures of You it just kinda exploded all over this one shot. No fluffy bunnies here folks. For real. Hope you enjoy anyways!**

* * *

**DAMON POV**

* * *

**Disappointment**

* * *

My steps are silent as I walk down the stairs to her cell.

She's only been locked up for a few hours, but it feels like longer.

Stefan went to bed and he's been quiet since. Maybe he's asleep. I hope he is.

I pretended to do the same. But I can't sleep with her behind bars that I locked in place.

I stop and peer through them, watching my epiphany lie still.

She hasn't said anything since we placed her in here, she hasn't woken yet. I wonder if maybe she hasn't been feeding enough, if that's why the vervain is keeping her down so long.

I should know these things, but I don't.

She hasn't spoken to me since we brought her home after finding Katherine. I haven't seen her in over a week before tonight. She'll respond to my texts, but won't answer my calls. I don't understand why I wasn't allowed to hear her voice… Maybe because she knows how badly I needed to.

I shake my head at myself. I shouldn't be down here. I should be stronger.

As I watch her face contorts in discomfort, brow furrowed, lips wincing.

This is why I shouldn't be down here.

I can't take this.

I open the lock and step inside.

I should be more careful. She could be playing me but I really don't even care right now.

I need to touch her.

I stay beside the door to give her the chance to blitz, to rush at me in determination to escape.

I wait. I count. It doesn't happen.

She whimpers and I move.

I kneel by her side, taking her cold hand in mine. Her forehead unfurls, heartbeat slows. I brush my fingertips from her temple to her jaw and with the slightest shift, she turns into my touch.

It's blistering agony and suffocating relief.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

I never wanted this.

But I did it. It's my fault.

My blood gave her the power to feel too much, and I made her bury it.

I thought tonight, for a moment, that she felt.

Bonnie was ripping into her body with steel I couldn't see, couldn't stop, couldn't bend. She cried out for me, needed me, and though I'd been devastated by the words she'd spat at me, I couldn't help but go to her. I can never help but go to her.

When it was over she rose in my arms under my encouragement, and she _looked_ at me.

There was so much there: shock, fear, disbelief…

She looked…_sorry._

Then Stefan stabbed her.

I knew that was the plan, to inject her with vervain as soon as the opportunity presented itself so we could lock her up. But I was so lost in her eyes, in that look, that I wonder if we made a mistake. I wanted to stop him, I wanted to know if what I was seeing was real.

I failed. I wasn't fast enough to speak, to beg her to keep feeling, to come back.

She knows what happened. I saw the shadow of betrayal cross her features before she collapsed against me. Whatever humanity she had found, I'm sure she lost it then.

I want to hope that she didn't. I want her to wake up and say my name with something other than apathy, irritation, disgust.

I unwind my hand from hers, leaving my hope behind in a soft kiss to her forehead.

I leave the cell and lock the door behind me.

* * *

**Rage**

* * *

I wake to her screaming.

Snarling, growling, shrieking in unfiltered fury.

I didn't expect much less.

She curses my name as I shower and dress, blaring hatred and scorn.

She bellows while I drink my breakfast, warmed blood and scorching coffee and her voice spewing sentiments of all the ways she will make me suffer.

Her vocabulary is borderline impressive.

"Hey," Stefan greets me in the library an hour later.

I look up from my book with a smirk.

"So, I'm gonna head out for a bit," he says and hands me a note.

_Don't listen to her. If she's angry, it's working. _

"Need me to pick up anything?"

"Nah, I'm good," I say and pull a pen from my pocket.

_Stay out for a while, she's just getting started. I got this._

He takes the note and looks it over, his forehead wrinkling in worry.

When he looks back at me I can see he wants to ask me to leave with him, but he knows one of us needs to stay. I give him the middle finger and point at the door.

"Fine. See you later," he says and stalks from the room.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do," I taunt and return to my book.

I pretend not to notice when he glances at me over his shoulder.

Another hour passes as I read, accompanied with endless examples of all the things I've done to ruin her life floating up to me from the basement.

After, I clean the house. Dusting and straightening and taking the ashes out of the fireplace while she recites all the reasons she despises me.

Her stamina is inspiring.

I'm stretched out on the couch, my ankles crossed lazily and hands laced behind my head when I hear her start breaking things.

Wood groans as she shreds the cot she slept on, clawed hands disintegrating sheets and her pillow and everything she can find to ruin.

Metal grates as she begins to ram the door, the bolt rattling in protest while she repeatedly kicks the living shit out of it. The image in my mind is almost a turn on. Her face fanged, veined, feral and indomitable while she assaults her cage in a prom dress. It's too good to resist.

I head downstairs and approach the door. She's quiet for the first time all day.

I only get a glance of her through the bars before I duck.

Girl actually hurled a stake at me with enough force to kill, though it only would have pierced my throat. Guess that explains the cot.

"Afternoon, gorgeous," I say from the safety of the stairwell.

She's still wearing that dress but her hair is down and disheveled, her eyeliner smudged and bleeding into the black web controlling her cheeks. She looks beautifully, exotically wild.

"Let me out of here," she snarls.

"Now why would I want to do that?"

"Because I'll kill you if you don't."

"Gonna be a little hard from in there, don't you think?"

A sliver of wood flies through the bars and splinters against the wall next to me.

"Tsk tsk, Elena. That's no way to bargain for- Son of a bitch!"

She laughs as I dig the splinter from my knee. I'm not even sure how she managed to get the curve of her throw right, but I'm kinda proud. And super pissed.

"What were you saying?" she croons.

"That you're gonna have a blast sleeping on the floor."

"Fuck you! Let me out!"

"You ready to turn your humanity back on yet?"

The door bows but doesn't break as she crashes against it.

She screams over the pop of her shoulder dislocating.

I wince but stand still, listening to her wail and suffer as she thrashes in agony, pleading and crying and begging for me.

I can't help her.

She needs this.

I need her to hurt, to feel _something._ At least I didn't have to do it myself, I don't know if I would have had the strength.

I let her writhe for ten minutes until she can't take anymore.

Until I can't take anymore.

"Elena, stand up."

I hear her slide up the door, and I approach it carefully. I don't think she'd attack right now, she's in too much pain, but still. Woman has fire, and she's smart. I distinctly heard the slide and snap of cartilage and muscle shifting out of place, but it's more than possible she's putting on one hell of a show.

When I see her face through the metal gaps I forget my caution, her injury is disgustingly real.

"Face me," I tell her and she does, trembling in distress as her arm dangles oddly. "Close your eyes."

She complies, tears streaking down her face.

I reach through the bars, grabbing her bicep gently.

I thrust up and twist her arm without warning, snapping her back together with a solid crunch. It reminds me of the sound of snapping chicken bones when I cook, but its louder, harsher, and with infinitely more screaming.

She shrieks and claws at her shoulder, collapsing back to the floor.

I wait until she calms, bellows fading to whimpers.

"You ready to flip your switch?"

She growls and stands, baring her fangs at me before she starts front-kicking the door with bare feet and toes painted the color of blood.

"Have it your way," I shrug. "Nighty-night, Elena."

* * *

**Lust**

* * *

Two weeks.

I never thought she'd last this long.

Girl takes stubborn to the Olympic level.

She raged for days until she started to wither from lack of blood. It seemed like desiccation was the only thing that was going to slow her down. So I let it.

Stefan was pissed but I don't give a fuck. He can't handle this, so he leaves. Every day. Out in the morning and back at night. I don't know where he goes and I don't ask. I don't tell him the shit she says or does and he doesn't pry. He doesn't want to know.

I don't want him to.

I give her just enough blood to keep her awake and arguing with me, and she does. But we're not getting anywhere.

Showering was a complication. I can't let her out, and I'm not gonna let her just go dirty. So it was Macguyver, all the way. But first, we had to get in the cell to retro-fit it for long term encampment.

So I shot her through the bars with a vervain dart.

We waited until she was down before we went inside.

Then I snapped her neck.

Stefan stood guard over her, ready to twist her spine into submission in case she woke up while I set it up. I could get a contractor to come in and build a bathroom for her, but I actually want her to be slightly uncomfortable.

So she gets a garden hose threaded through the door, secured to a hook above her reach. I run the cold water from outside the cell while she bitches about cruel and unusual punishment, that she'd rather be at Gitmo than here.

I never thought I'd have to play prison guard to the girl I love, but you do what you have to.

For better or worse runs through my mind a lot.

We're definitely in the worse.

She's getting crafty, too. She's trying to break me.

She damn near did it today.

I went down to her after Stefan left, same routine, every day. I always greet her with an endearment, asking her sweetly how she slept and if she's ready to feel yet.

I know she slept like shit, she's sleeping on concrete. I still do it anyways.

But I didn't say anything today. I couldn't.

When I went down there, she was naked.

She has clothes. She gets fresh jeans and a shirt every day after her shower, but I don't watch her dress and I don't watch her bathe. I don't want to see her right now.

I miss her.

So when I looked through the bars and she was nude, sitting up against the far wall with her legs spread and touching herself, I almost turned and ran.

I should have.

"What are you doing?" I gritted out.

"Waiting for you…"

Her smile way coy, seductive, dangerous.

She swiped her middle finger against her wetness, bringing into her mouth and tasting herself. She moaned and sucked, pulling on it like it was my cock.

I didn't want to watch as she dragged it down her chest to tease her nipple, rolling and pinching it with a gasp.

"Wanna come play with me?" she panted.

"No."

"Liar," she grinned.

I couldn't run, she would think she won. So I made myself stand still, arms crossed to keep from unbolting the door while she "played".

She entered herself with a moan. First one finger, then another.

Her strokes were slow at first, her whole body rolling as she lost herself in sensation. Her breathing became shallower, faster, and soon her thrusts matched. I knew when she curled her fingers because her whole body jerked, her shoulders curling forward and her mouth slacking open, but it wasn't enough. So she moved her free hand to her clit.

She spread herself more, making sounds that I haven't heard her from her often enough and in much too long. I knew as soon as she was on the cusp of her orgasm, I know her body almost better than she does.

Her heart fluttered, legs twitched, and then…

"Stefan…"

I wanted to throw up.

I wanted to let her loose. To allow her to flee from my house and my life and do whatever the fuck she wanted because I was done.

But I didn't.

I stayed still, and she laughed.

"Are you finished?"

"Not quite, but you're welcome to give it a shot," she smirked at me breathless.

"Think I'll pass," I sneered.

"Since when do you have a problem being second in line? Never bothered you before."

"Ready to shower?" I deflected. "You could use it."

"'Cause I'm a dirty girl?" she purred and my stomach churned.

"You're…something. See you tomorrow, Elena."

I went back upstairs and haven't been back down since.

She hasn't stopped laughing.

* * *

**Regret**

* * *

I can't take much more.

A month and a half of resilience and coldness and obstinacy.

Same shit, every day.

It doesn't matter what I say.

It doesn't matter what I do.

She doesn't fucking care.

I want to give up.

I don't know how Lexi did this to Stefan for years. Hell, she put me through this for six months without breaking a sweat. I guess it was easier because she wasn't in love with us.

That's not the case now.

It's killing me to keep her locked up like some animal, because she's not acting like one and it only makes it worse.

She smiles. She laughs. She talks to me.

But her eyes are dead.

And the words coming from her lips aren't the things I need to hear her say.

It would be easier if she was feral like the beginning, then I could remember why it was so important that she be caged. But with every calm conversation, every easy acceptance of her imprisonment, I wonder if I should just let her go. To release her to walk the world emotionless, to forget her touch and whispers. To let her be exactly what she wants: a predator with no regard for the life of others. No regard for me.

But…_I can't_.

I can't give up on her.

So I'm going to have to try and break her another way, in a way that will probably break me too.

It's not hard to find a candidate. It never has been. They're eager, willing, ready to do whatever I ask.

I wish it wasn't so easy. I wish I couldn't make this happen. But I can, and I hate it.

I go to the Grill and make my selection. Not hard.

I get her to the car and she climbs in without question. Easy.

When we get to the boarding house I compel her. Not to do what I say or what I want, just to ignore the girl in the cage. Her eyes glaze and she nods, repeating her instructions.

When I get her to the front door I push her against it, kissing her hard and deep until she's moaning into my throat. She tastes like cigarettes and vodka and cheap breath mints. It's disgusting.

We stumble into the house and she's pulling at my shirt, already reaching for my belt.

I realize I don't even remember her name. I don't know if I asked.

I don't care. I don't want to know.

I stop her hands but she's not discouraged. She just takes off her shirt and reveals the cheap bra she's wearing underneath. She probably bought it in bulk.

She attacks my mouth sloppily, unbuttoning my shirt with a hurried ability that tells me this is far from her first one night stand. Which is why she's already topless in my living room.

"I want you to fuck me," she pants and reaches for my pants again.

Classy.

"Don't worry, angel. I will," I grin at her and she gets even wetter than she already was. "First things first, though."

I lead her downstairs to the cellar.

Elena hasn't made a sound the whole time but I know she heard what's been going on upstairs.

I stop in front of the door, my arm around the shoulder of my weapon and her mouth dragging from my jaw to my neck. Her hand scours my chest where my shirt is open, grabbing and pulling me towards her.

"Hey," I nod at Elena.

She's sitting against the far wall, legs stretched out in front of her and ankles crossed. She's the picture of relaxed indifference.

"What do you want, Damon?"

"Seen Stefan?"

I don't really know where he is and I don't care, but I damn well know where he isn't because I told him in a note to crash somewhere else tonight. He didn't ask me why, and I didn't tell him. But I think maybe he knew.

"Nope," she sighs sounding bored. "Too bad, too."

"And why is that?" I ask, moaning a little and tilting my head so the girl ravaging my neck has better access. "Oooh," I drawl and smirk as she unzips my pants and starts to stoke me.

Elena just glares. She knows exactly what's going on, she can hear it.

"You're not the only one around here looking to get laid," she slides into a smile. "I'm sure he'd be more than happy to help me out."

I laugh loud and cruel.

"Yeah, good luck with that."

"You know, if you're really that desperate you could've just asked me," she shrugs. "No need to expose yourself to disease."

"Which is exactly why you're locked in there," I smirk. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a woman to satisfy. Sweet dreams, Elena."

I leave her to brood in the jealousy she's trying to deny, carrying hope back up the stairs that my plan is working. It's the only way I'll be able to go through with this.

I lead us to the parlor and stop there. This girl is not going anywhere near my bed. I'm sure it would hurt Elena more to know that I fucked someone else in the same room where I first made love to her, but I just can't. And no-name doesn't care where we are, as long as she's got me naked.

I allow her to resume stripping me, which she does with enthusiasm. She drops to her knees and takes me into her mouth, licking and sucking my cock ravenously. I let her take her time. It doesn't matter, it's not going to get me anywhere anyways and I'm gonna drag this out as long as possible.

I put on a good show, moaning and sighing and telling her how good it feels. How much I want her. She believes me.

When she's done I bend her over the back of the couch. I grip her neck and she moans so I squeeze harder before I slam into her. She comes instantly, squeezing me and shouting my name. I don't remember telling her it but whatever.

I fuck her hard, long. She's loud and demanding.

"More!"

"Deeper!"

"Harder!"

She screams over and over for me to fuck her, and I do.

Then it's "OhmyGod" and "Yes" and "Holy Shit" and "I'm coming".

It's the best sex she's ever had. I know, because she keeps telling me.

While I keep fucking her.

Against the wall, the door, the couch, the floor, the stairs.

I make myself look at her face. It keeps my orgasm at bay.

It seems like it goes on forever.

But nothing about this girl is going to do anything to get me to finish.

She's past the point that she can really take anymore. Her body is loose from multiple climaxes and her breathing is ragged, her heart struggling. I could probably screw her until she just dies from exhaustion, but I won't.

I drop her to her knees on the floor and take her from behind. She rocks against me, but barely.

It's time to get this over with.

I close my eyes and remember what _she_ feels like, what _she_ sounds like.

It works just like I knew it would and I thrust harder until I come, roaring with release.

I collapse on the floor, as far away from the girl as I can get. She moves her hand towards me, but I ignore it.

I take a breath and my body lurches, bile and bourbon crawling up my throat under the assault of the stinking smell of sex and a perfume that's not Elena's.

I swallow it down and hold my breath. I could breathe through my mouth but I won't. I don't want to taste it.

"Hope she was worth it," Elena says evenly from the basement.

I don't reply, just pinching my eyes shut against the ripping pain in my chest.

"Go ahead, fuck all the whores you want because even if I turn my humanity back on, you'll _never _touch me again."

I get up and put my pants on, paying no attention to the other person in the room.

I blur down the stairs and slam open the bolt, storming inside the cell.

Elena's sitting in the corner, knees to her chest.

She's trembling.

She stands when I enter, but she doesn't rush the door.

"What makes you think I want to touch you?!"

She bristles at my voice, but doesn't speak.

"You are a cold, heartless bitch who has made it perfectly clear that you don't give a shit about me. You don't deserve for me to even look at you, much less anything else."

Her palm strikes against my cheek firm and fast. My jaw cracks and it feels like my eye is going to explode, my head turning so quick she damn near broke my neck. It's nothing compared to the fissure in my chest.

"I hate you," she whispers. "You can't take this back."

"I know."

"Then why did you do it?"

"Because," I growl, shaking as I meet her eyes. "I used to love you."

She reels back.

"What do you mean _used to_?"

"Exactly what I said, Elena."

Her hands clench into fists, her bottom lip quivering.

"Then let me go."

I turn away from her and walk back to the door, listening to her unsteady breaths as I shut it quietly and lock it in place.

I look at her through the bars, still standing right where I left her.

"I already have."

I go back upstairs, blocking her out as she calls me a liar, screaming that I would never give up on her so easily after how long I waited for Katherine.

"Hey, where did you go?" the girl croons at me. "You just disappeared."

"Just had to take care of something," I try to smile and fail.

At least she's already dressed.

"Well," she shrugs and blushes. "I had a lot of fun. Maybe we could do this again sometime?"

"You need a ride somewhere?" I ask instead, putting my shirt back on and stepping into my boots.

"Um, if you could drop me back at the bar that would be great."

I nod and lead her to the door. Not touching her.

I drive her back to the Grill in silence and she hands me her number as she slides from the car.

I pull away and throw it out the window.

I get to Ric's a minute later.

I barely make it to the bathroom before I start throwing up.

* * *

**Fear**

* * *

I send Stefan a text the next morning telling him to stay away from the house.

His response asks if I'm alright.

I fire back that he can come home after dark. Then I turn off my phone.

I haven't been back yet.

I couldn't go back. So I stayed at Ric's.

I showered until the water ran cold and even then I didn't move. I just let it beat into me, a million scrapes that weren't sharp enough to cut me into nothing.

Then I tried to drink.

Every sip I took tasted like cigarettes and vodka and not the relief I needed.

I couldn't keep it down and it never ended.

Drink. Throw up. Brush teeth.

Over and over and over.

Probably one of the longest nights of my life. And I've had some long mother-fucking nights.

But it's time for this shit to end.

I finally get the courage to go back a little after two in the afternoon.

I don't say anything to her as I enter the house. She's quiet. Good.

I go right to my room and pack a single bag. A few shirts and pants. My favorite books. A jacket.

That's all I need to start over.

I leave it by the front door when I head back downstairs.

Just one last thing to get rid of.

I go down to the cellar and I hear her scuffle to her feet when I approach. I unbolt the door and let it swing open, standing next to it in the hallway.

"You're back," she whispers.

I don't look at her.

"Go."

She doesn't make any movement to follow my instructions.

"Go," I say again forcefully.

"What are you doing?"

I huff in frustration, stomping inside and taking her roughly by the arm.

"You want to be free?" I growl, tugging her up the stairs. "You want to live your life without your humanity? Fine. Go do it somewhere else."

She trips over the rug in the living room but I don't let it slow us, just hauling her up by her elbow and dragging her towards the door.

"Damon," she mutters, panicked. "What are you doing?"

"What I should have done a year ago," I snap and open the front door.

I shove her outside onto the doorstep, ignoring the fear in her eyes.

"Getting you out of my life."

I slam the door and lock it.

I tune out the sound of her beating on the door.

Calling my name.

Begging me to talk to her.

I write a note to Stefan. Telling him I'm sorry. Telling him I failed.

I hope that one day he'll forgive me. But I doubt it.

I grab my bag and open the door. She wasn't expecting it to open and she tumbles against me in surprise.

I shrug her off and she falls.

I don't pick her up.

"Damon, wait…" she pleads while I head to my car with no hesitation, shoving my bag in the trunk and slamming it shut. "Where are you going?!"

I don't answer as I walk around to the driver's seat.

"You promised you wouldn't leave!"

"I lied," I say and open the door.

She blurs next to me and reaches for my face. I hit her hands away.

"Don't go," she whispers, tears streaming down her face.

"This is what you wanted!" I roar, rounding on her. "You wanted your freedom? You got it. Give me mine!"

"But I love you," she whimpers.

My hand is around her throat before she can lie again.

"I should kill you for that," I snarl and flex my grip enough that she winces.

"Damon…" she sputters, tugging at my wrist. "You're hurting me…"

"Not nearly enough."

I push her back and she stumbles, crashing to the ground.

I turn my back on her.

"It flipped…"

I slam my door in fury before I stalk back to where she's lying on the ground.

She scoots away as I approach as if she's frightened I'm going to hurt her.

I want to.

"You fucking liar!" I scream in her face.

"No…" she shakes her head, cowering. "Last night…it flipped. But you never came back…"

I know she's lying, but I still stop and look at her face.

Her cheeks are red, stained with tears.

Her bottom lip is swollen, dried blood sitting in the place where she bites it when she's nervous.

Her chest is heaving, breaths quick and ragged.

Heart pounding.

I force myself to look at her eyes.

Really look.

Puffy. Glistening. Dark circles shading them.

She looks like she's been crying for hours.

"Damon, please…"

Fear.

Fire.

It's there…

She's there…

I collapse on my knees beside her.

I can't breathe…

It happened.

And it's too late.

She'll never forgive me for all I've done.

It hurts, it hurts, it hurts…

_It hurts._

"Damon, look at me," she whispers and I close my eyes.

I don't deserve to look at her.

A soft hand cups my cheek, her thumb sweeping over my skin.

It feels wet. I don't know if it's my tears, or hers.

"You're shaking," she mumbles.

She's right, but there's nothing to be done about it and I don't care.

"Please, tell me I'm not too late."

My eyes open in shock to find her watching me, terrified.

I want to speak. I want to tell her there's nothing she could ever do that would make me stop loving her.

But I can't find my voice.

It's strangled in relief.

In guilt.

In regret.

Her mouth twists in pain, nodding as she takes my silence for admission.

She believed me last night. She thinks that I don't love her anymore.

Her eyes close and she wrenches out a single sob, unable to keep anything else inside her. When she looks at me again, she tries to smile her goodbye but it's just pain, so much pain…

I watch her stand and I don't understand why I'm not moving, why I'm stuck.

She brushes the hair back from my forehead, lingering a little longer than normal and blinking furiously, trying to rid her tears.

"Bye baby," she chokes out. "I'll miss you."

Her touch leaves and her back turns, taking her first step away from me and I reach, gripping her hand and desperate to stop what would be the biggest mistake of my life.

"Damon?" she asks, looking back at me completely stunned.

I squeeze her hand, winding my fingers through hers so we're locked together and then she's in my arms, clinging to me so hard it hurts and it's not close enough, it'll never be close enough.

She whispers apologies that I can't hear and don't matter because she loves me.

Outside, together, we cry.

* * *

_fin_

* * *

**A/N: Okay guys, thanks for reading! And as always, please review because I cherish every thought! Now, back to more lighthearted things...**

**-Goldnox**


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